


Because of you

by neela



Category: Murder Call (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drabble Collection, Established Relationship, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Friendship/Love, Gen, Intimacy, Morning After, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Secret Relationship, Unresolved Romantic Tension, resolved tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:08:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 8,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26947216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neela/pseuds/neela
Summary: "Because of you, I laugh a little harder, cry a little less, and smile a lot more." - Unknown.A response to the old 25 moments LJ challenge. Mostly unconnected oneshots and drabbles. There will be links if something's connected.6/12/20: Now includes a whole story - “Change the ending”.
Relationships: Tessa Vance & Steve Hayden, Tessa Vance/Steve Hayden
Kudos: 2





	1. Table of contents

**TABLE OF CONTENTS**

This collection will host both unconnected and connected drabbles/ficlets in response to the old [25 moments challenge on LJ.](https://25moments.livejournal.com/435.html)

Below is the prompt table. For now, the moments are not published in order, but this might be changed later if I see the need for it. I'll provide links where it might be necessary to show what's connected, though.

15/25

1. | **Scars** | 2. | Vacation | 3. | **Jealousy** | 4. | Life or Death | 5. | **Music**  
---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---  
6. | Kiss | 7. | **Sated** | 8. | **Hunger** | 9. | **Drunk** | 10. | Moment of Clarity  
11. | **Weather** | 12. | **Pain** | 13. | **Comfort** | 14. | Tattoo | 15. | Making up  
16. | Food | 17. | **Drink** | 18. | **Bed** | 19. | Blood | 20. | Betrayal  
21. | Trust | 22. | **Five senses** | 23. | **Memories** | 24. | **Time of Day** | 25. | **Kissing in the rain**  
  
**Edit 6 Dec 2020:**

A storyline snuck into the prompt writing, so edits have been made to reflect that. You can read that storyline -- "Change the ending" -- here: 

  * Prologue: [Bed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26947216/chapters/66787834#workskin)
  * 1: [Memories](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26947216/chapters/68355979#workskin)
  * 2: [Jealousy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26947216/chapters/66788692#workskin)
  * 3: [Sated](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26947216/chapters/68356294#workskin)
  * 4: [Drink](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26947216/chapters/66794374#workskin)
  * 5: [Hunger](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26947216/chapters/68356408#workskin)
  * 6: [Kissing in the rain](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26947216/chapters/66817012#workskin)
  * Epilogue: [Five senses](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26947216/chapters/66873514#workskin)




	2. Scar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #1.

There’s a white line on his sternum that stands out against the slight tan of his skin. She trails it with a fingertip - soft and careful - and feels the slight ridge of the scar. In places, it’s smooth: incision by scalpel. In one spot, it’s jagged: the bullet’s entry.

It always sobers her. “You could’ve died.”

He’s always matter-of-fact. “I didn’t.”

“If I’d been half an hour later…”

“You weren’t.”

She sighs and looks at him pointedly. “Don’t ever go off on your own without saying so again.”

He merely raises an eyebrow, to which she sighs once more.

“I won’t if you won’t,” she remedies.

At that, he smiles and trails his fingertip down her naked spine, ending just above her tailbone. He starts doing small circles there.

Neither of them talk much after that.


	3. Drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #9.

She’s seen him drink, but she’s rarely seen him drunk. Steve just isn’t like that. Like many other aspects of him, you could flick a coin off the linens of his mattress — that’s how tight his control is. Tonight, though…

Steve’s slumped over a table in the corner, a coldie still in hand. Tessa steps up to him with care, aware that Tony, the bartender, is watching her. "Steve?"

He doesn’t respond.

"Steve." Tessa ventures a touch on his shoulder, a slight shake. That snaps him up, which makes her jerk back in surprise. "Hey, _hey_. Easy."

Pupils unfocused and dilated, there’s no question he’s under the influence. Steve looks to her all the same and there’s a flicker of recognition there. When he talks, however, it’s more or less wordless grumbles.

"Come on, let me take you home." Touching him again, Tessa throws a glance over her shoulder at Tony, who stands ready to lock the place up. He’d been the one on Steve’s phone earlier, giving her a shot at this before calling their friends in blue. She appreciates the gesture. "I’m sure your bed’s better than this table. Get up."

Steve mumbles again, swaying in his seat. She has to pry the beer bottle from his hand, then pull at his arm to get him standing. Somehow, he complies. Even as the legs nearly buckle beneath him, he leans on her and eventually Tony too until he’s slumped in the front passenger seat of Tessa’s car.

"Thanks," Tessa tells Tony after she’s put Steve’s seat belt on.

"No worries." Tony shrugs and pulls out a set of keys from his pocket. "Just hope he’ll be all right. Seemed to have a lot on his mind, he did."

Tessa’s neck stiffens at that and she casts a glance back at Steve, who’s closed his eyes and leaned his face against the car window. In sleep — or drunken exhaustion more like — his face is smoother, but it doesn’t take much to imagine the lines that’d been on it earlier. She’s seen them many times lately, and some days more than others. It’s not a surprise if today’d been the culmination of all that. Not when…

Tessa’s unable to complete that thought.

"Well, have a good night," Tony says, breaking her out of her thoughts, and begins to walk back to the bar entrance. "And sorry to pull you out of bed at this hour, Tessa."

"No worries, I’m glad you called." Tessa offers a small smile and heads ‘round the car to the driver’s seat. "G’night, Tony."

Tony gives a little wave and she gets into the car and buckles up. Then she spends a moment just staring at Steve, whose mouth is open and drooling slightly. The rest of him bears signs of his hardships too: ruffled shirt, lost tie, tousled hair, stained trousers. He looks like he simply doesn’t care. A far cry from the professional she knows him as.

"Had to be today, huh?" With a sigh, Tessa pulls out a tissue from the glove box and wipes the drool off his face.

He twitches and furrows his eyebrows for a second, then drifts back into his haze.

"Should’ve called me," Tessa adds as she turns the engine on and eases the car unto the empty street. "Would’ve kept you company."

Steve doesn’t respond. Not that she really expects him to.

The silence of the drive bothers her a bit, though. It lends too much time for thoughts and imaginings, and by the time she reaches his place she’s antsy and uneasy.

"Steve." Tessa taps his shoulder, hoping to rouse him. When it doesn’t work, she puts more force into it. It makes his head snap up and glance around in confusion until his gaze lands on her. She tries to smile. "You’re home. You should go inside and sleep."

Steve groans and shifts, apparently clear-headed enough now to recognise he’s in a car and thereby trying to unbuckle his seat belt. He misses, though, and Tessa reaches over to press the button for him. Then, with another sigh, she gets out and ‘round the car to help him out of it.

He’s got a little more control of his legs now, so together they amble through his small front garden and up the steps to his house. Tessa struggles a bit under his weight, but he manages to stand on his own for a moment while she digs out the spare key she keeps and then unlocks the front door.

Inside, the living room is as cluttered with DIY stuff as ever. Tessa half pulls, half pushes him along until Steve’s seated on the edge of his bed. Then, while he tries to pull his clothes off, she heads for the kitchen and a tall glass of water that she makes him drink before he falls back, still half-dressed, on the mattress. She takes off his shoes and socks, hesitates on the trousers, then pulls those off too before tucking him in with the covers.

"’m sr’y," Steve mumbles into his pillow; the first intelligible words so far. His eyes are still closed, so she’s got no idea whether it’s to her or someone else he’s speaking.

It makes Tessa sigh, however, and she leans down to run a hand through his hair, caressing his temple. "Get some sleep. I’ll leave another glass of water for you here."

She tries to get up, but Steve’s taken her hand in his and it holds her back.

"I tri’d…" he says, tension lines appearing on his face.

Tessa’s heart breaks for him. She uses her other hand to smooth down his hair. "I know."

There’s not much else to say. It’s all been said before, and chances are high he won’t remember anything of this moment anyway. So why waste more breath on the past?

"Sleep," she tells him and leans close to drop a kiss on his forehead, then she tries to get back up on her feet.

Steve’s eyes open and settle on her. Pained’s the word that comes to mind. Like he’s stared into the abyss and had it tag along on his way back. His hand tightens around hers.

"C’d y’stay?"

Tessa stiffens at that, but… But it’s late, she’s tired, and she doesn’t have the heart for the alternative. Not today. Not when he so rarely needs it.

"All right," she says and stands up to fetch more water for him, as well as to make sure everything else’s in order. Then, pulling off her coat but leaving the rest of her clothes on, she settles next to him on the bed.

He searches and pulls her hand into his again, keeping it close to his chest. They both lie on their sides, him with his eyes closed, she with hers open, and the moments pass without comment.

Then, after a long while, Tessa closes her eyes too.

* * *

_Follow-up:[Pain](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26947216/chapters/65796115)_


	4. Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #12.

_Follow-up to[Drunk](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26947216/chapters/65773870)._

* * *

He wakes with a full bladder, a warm bed, and the scent of something sweet that he can’t discern. Painful knives slash through his head as he tries to move and his mouth tastes like ash, all dried up and parched.

Great. So _that’s_ what he’d been doing last night. Steve doesn’t remember much of it though. Just those first few drinks at the bar and then…nothing. Tony must’ve gotten him home. Or he somehow got himself home. Steve doesn’t know which either.

Then it doesn’t matter because his bladder’s complaining again.

Steve rolls out of bed, groaning and wincing at the painful throbs in his head. There’s nausea too, now that he notices. It churns uneasily in his gut as he gets to his feet and lumber-slash-stumble past the kitchen and to a small bathroom beyond.

When the pressure’s relieved and his face hit with cold water, Steve goes straight back to bed. It’s Sunday, or at least he thinks it is, so there’s nothing else he needs to do. Better to just sleep things off.

As he collapses on the mattress, though, his mind catches up with his body.

 _Water,_ he thinks, finding it hard to swallow and hard to keep his eyes open. _And painkillers._

Groaning once more, Steve sits up and opens his eyes — and stops.

There, unnoticed on the bedside table until now, stands a glass of water and a packet of paracetamol.

Steve frowns. He hasn’t usually done that before: prepare stuff for the day after. Had he —

_A glass pushed into his hands._

_Sweet, clear water gulped down his throat._

_Gentle hands on his arms as he laid down._

_Soft and wet pressure on his forehead._

_Brilliant blue eyes locked with his._

_A hand in his hand._

Steve forgets how to breathe and he glances back at the bed, the _warm_ bed. There’s no one else there, but… He senses that sweet scent again and chases it down to the other pillow. His eyes widen then and his heart suddenly hammers in his chest.

Had he…? Had _they…_?

He tries to remember. Tries to consider the feel of his body. Does it feel different? He doesn’t know. It aches with his hangover, clouding whatever else he might feel.

Unable to bear not knowing, Steve finds his cell phone and unlocks it. In the call history, he finds a clue. He — or someone else — had called Tessa last night. It’d lasted about a minute.

His heart aches in a different sort of way than his hangover. Oh God, had he… _Again_?

There aren’t any answers, but Steve’s too scared and embarrassed to find them now anyway. Dropping the phone next to him on the bed, he gulps the proffered painkillers with water and then sits there for a few minutes.

When the ache begins to subside, he rolls back under the covers and lies staring at that spot next to him on the bed. Imagining he can see her face there. How it seems peaceful as she sleeps.

Then, as exhaustion sneaks in to pull him down once more, Steve pulls the other pillow into his arms. It smells like her and it’s soft. Maybe she was too.


	5. Time of day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could be read as a follow-up to Drunk and Pain, or a stand-alone.

There’s an awkwardness about them now. Tessa feels it with every fibre of her being. He steps too close and she tenses up. She brushes past him and he stiffens. It’s like they’re back at the start, two strangers trying to find their footing around each other.

In most cases, though, it seems they’re both able to ignore it. Business as usual and all that. The minutia of work and chasing down leads overwhelming them and their senses. Letting them escape into the safety of the known.

But to her, at least, it’s different at night. When she’s alone, at home, in bed, staring at the ceiling for answers that elude her. That’s when it all comes back in full. Keeping her awake. Restless. Thrumming with irresolution. With want. With desire. Despair…

Tessa rolls onto her side. It’s too hot and the covers are clammy; she’s been awake too long. Sleep won’t come. She knows that, but indecision paralyses her. The memories, too.

_Warm hand in hers._

_Strong back against hers._

_The smell of him overriding the smell of beer._

_A sad clench in her gut._

_A knowledge that this won’t last._

_That she’s only got now._

_She’s only got tonight._

Tears burn in Tessa’s eyes and she rolls onto her back, covering her eyes with the back of her lower arm. She bites back the pain. The despair. It’s second nature by now. Soon, it’s gone. Tears too. Just the paralytic left.

_Get up._

Eventually she does. She stalks into the kitchen, drains a glass of cold water, and stares into the blackness of her apartment.

The unease is gaining traction, needing release. And there’s really only one way she can fix that, so she pulls on her clothes, hoists down her bicycle, and goes for a ride.

Even at night, the city’s not quite asleep. There’s traffic and people, and Tessa steers clear of all of them until she reaches the park nearby. There she starts her laps, one after the other until the exertion bleeds her unease dry. Until she’s exhausted and yet exhilarated, and the odd sensation of her waking hours is dispelled for another day.

Calmer and tired, Tessa turns back towards her apartment, looking forward to a few blissful hours of sleep before she’ll need to come into work.

Then she spots Steve’s car out front in the street. Instant tension seeps into her muscles, and she glances up toward the outside staircase to see if he is outside her apartment.

He is, but he hasn’t spotted her. Steve’s on the phone and knocking on the front door at the same time. There’s restlessness about him. Impatience.

Work, then. That eases her somewhat.

Hoisting her bicycle up, Tessa ascends the stairs. They nearly bowl each other over when she turns the corner at the top.

“Oy!” Steve exclaims, then spots her and a mixture of expressions cross his face in the blink of an eye. “Tess? What’re you—?” He glances at the bike, then her apparel, then around them and behind her. “Don’t you _ever_ sleep?”

Normally, she’d have laughed. But tonight it’s not funny, for some reason. Maybe because she hasn’t actually slept at all, and she’s tired, and— And it’s just _not_ funny.

“Which case?” Tessa asks with a bite as she manoeuvres herself and the bicycle inside her apartment. There’s no point asking whether it’s an ongoing or new case; they’re not on the call roster this week. That leaves any of their six currently open cases, and Steve wouldn’t be here unless there was a major development.

“Gene Harris,” Steve says, following her inside. She’s left the door open as invitation - which is least she could do since he must’ve been standing outside waiting for a bit - and he closes it behind him. “Local boys’ve found Royle. They’re bringing him in.”

He flicks on the overhead light and Tessa winces in the sudden brightness.

It’s half comical the scene they’re in. He with his hand on the switch, watching her with furrowed brows and wicked eyes. She leaning the bike against the wall, self-conscious in her sweaty, tight-fitting clothes and sticky helmet hair, a sight she’s never shown him before.

“Give me five?” she asks.

“Sure,” he says just as quietly.

Tessa doesn’t meet Steve’s gaze as she hurries across the living room and kitchen to her bedroom. She just grabs any set of clean clothes, flushed and embarrassed as items of underwear spill from her closet onto the floor, but already out of time to pick them up.

Four minutes later, she’s washed up and dressed in something more comfortable, her still-sweaty hair pulled back in a ponytail. Steve’s still by the door, hands in his pockets, and the awkwardness is there even if she isn’t anyway near.

But there’s no time to think about that. Escape awaits. Fresh air, a case. All she needs. So she attempts a smile and says, “Ready.”


	6. Weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #11.  
> Episode tag to «Blood Heat».

It was cold and she was miserable. With the power out, there wasn’t much she could do in the way of heating either. She just had to sit there, huddled shoulder to shoulder with Steve in the darkened elevator, right on the tail end of a talk about dark secret primal urges and Steve being conceived in a lift.

 _Head out of gutter. Now._

Tessa shivered and shook her head, not sure whether the heat of her blush was welcome or not.

“Maybe we should ring the alarm again,” she said, teeth chattering.

“We did. Help’s on the way. Just gotta let them do their work.”

As ever, Steve sounded entirely too calm and collected for the situation. She really hated that. Or, in other words, she’d loved it when he’d been flustered earlier. Made her see a different aspect to him; a more human one.

Her mate Bridget had once said that women hung around Steve like bees to honey. So far in their partnership, however, Tessa hadn’t seen as much of that as she’d expected. There’d been Danni, but she’d disappeared just as sudden as she’d appeared. So when Thorne had suggested Steve didn’t know anything about women… Tessa couldn’t help wonder if he were right. Maybe the proper Catholic schoolboy was still in there somewhere, which made her smile.

“What?” Steve sounded both wary and not. “I can _hear_ you smiling.”

Tessa chuckled. “How perceptive. So maybe you _do_ know a bit about women.”

“Never claimed I didn’t,” Steve said with obvious tease. “Since we’re on the topic, though… Fair’s fair to ask you the same.”

“What do I know about men, you mean?” Tessa raised an eyebrow in the dimness, her smile widening even as another blush swept over her skin.

“Yeah.”

“That you’re all fanatical about team sports,” Tessa said.

“Hardly a secret.” Steve chuckled and his shoulder pressed a little further into hers as if either siphoning or sharing more warmth. “Got anything better?”

Distracted by the sudden heat flushing within, Tessa flustered for a moment. “You’re not as tough as you try to be.”

Steve just hummed at that, and it sounded as if she could hear him smile too.

“And I’ll bet women actually scare the shit out of you.” Huddling a little closer in spite of herself, Tessa struggled to keep an even breath. “Or I do, apparently.”

He grew still at that, which caused Tessa’s heart to skip a beat or two, and she wondered if she’d overstepped some line she hadn’t seen. But he soon shifted in his seat, his voice back to teasing. “Would take a bit more than what I’ve seen so far to scare me off.”

Tessa blushed again, the cold forgotten, and a relieved smile on her face. “Glad to hear that.”

“Besides,” Steve added, “You’re not as scary as you try to be. My Nan, though… There’s a gal you don’t want on your bad side.”

Tessa chuckled, and opened her mouth to jest in return…

…but the lights came on and the elevator jerked into motion. Soon, the moment was broken and they were back to business as usual. Albeit with a new sense about them.

“How about one for the road?” Steve asked later as he held the front door of Police HQ open and they exited onto the street. “Maybe some coffee to warm ourselves up?”

To be honest, Tessa knew the wisest option would be to get herself home. Every nerve in her body was jittery, after all, and hyped up on thoughts that… Well, were better served under different circumstances.

Tessa cleared her throat and smiled. “Next time.”

Steve smiled in return, showing no signs of disappointment. Just calm acceptance, as he was wont to do. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Tessa, again, struggled not to blush.

_Bees to honey. Maybe that’s all he needs to know._

_…so what’s that say about you?_

“G’night,” Tessa smiled and ignored her inner commentary.

Steve smiled too as he walked off into the night towards the bar. “G’night, spider woman.”

* * *


	7. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #13.  
> Episode tag to «Cry Wolf»

“It could’ve been me.”

Those words were hard to admit. She’d been _fine_ for so long, after all. Had gotten her life back in order, gone back to work, done what she’d liked without fear of the unknown. Sleep hadn’t always been easy, but at least the nightmares had stopped long ago. She’d even seen the light in the darkness; been optimistic, hopeful.

But then Gunther’s attack had triggered her. In an instant, she’d been back with Mumm, with Cramer, with the whole Fairview case. No matter that she’d managed to get out of all those situations on her own — that she’d survived — that old intrusive thought had returned: it could’ve been her.

Tears sprung to her eyes and Tessa reined in another sob, burying her face in her hands. From beside her on the couch, a respectable three feet away, Steve’s hand came to land on her back. It was large, warm, comfortable — and it grounded her, even if she hated that he was seeing her like this.

He didn’t have much to say. Not in moments like this. Or, at least not in her experience so far; they’d only been partners for less than a year.

But at least he was there; she wasn’t alone. She’d _really_ hate to be alone right now.

So she cried until she stopped, then wiped her tears and breathed. One in, one out, letting the air fill her entire body. Starting in her belly and then her chest and outwards until it reached the tips of her fingers and toes. Then slowly in reverse until she felt every muscle in her body begin to loosen up.

“Sorry about your suit earlier,” Tessa said eventually, offering Steve a small smile. He’d removed his hand now and left it lying in his lap as if not knowing where else to put it. “You can send me the dry cleaner’s bill.”

“’s all right.” Steve’s lips twitched a little, though his gaze remained a bit preoccupied. “Bit of snot improves the quality.”

“That a secret country trick?” Tessa snorted and straightened from her slump, leaning back into the couch cushions.

She threw a glance around her apartment, to the spot on the floor where she’d once lain unconscious in a potential killer’s arms. It stiffened her muscles a bit again, sobering her.

Steve, apparently, followed her gaze. “They can’t hurt you anymore. You know that, right?”

“…yeah.” Tessa nonetheless wrapped her arms around her torso. Wanting to play it off — to get back to the one she’d fought to be — she added with a smile, “Showed Gunther that, didn’t I?"

“That you most certainly did.» Steve chuckled, even as his eyes kept their sombreness. «He won’t be walking straight for a while.”

Not quite sure how to respond to those mixed messages he was sending, Tessa looked away and lapsed into silence. It stretched out for a while until it felt unbearable and she needed to fill it with _something_.

“Thanks, by the way,»”Tessa said nervously.

“For what?” Steve sounded genuinely confused.

“Y’know…” She met his gaze, smiled, and looked away again. “Being there.” She paused and almost held her breath before adding, “Being here.”

Steve didn’t respond to that. Not immediately. In the corner of her eye, she thought she could see him hesitate, even emit a silent sigh, before finally reaching out to touch her knee.

“Anytime,” he said a second later, his voice all gentle and intimate in a way more common for friends than mere coworkers. And meeting his gaze, she saw it match his tone.

She nearly teared up again because of that. Instead, though, Tessa covered his hand with hers and squeezed it. Steve smiled a little in return, which made her smile too.

And perhaps, right now, that was all she needed to remember that it hadn’t been her. After all, she was _here_. She was breathing. One in, one out. She was—

Tessa smiled as the tension left her.

_I’m alive._


	8. Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #18. Part of the "Change the ending" storyline.

__

_You can't go back and change the beginning, but you can start where you are and change the ending._ _—_ **_C. S. Lewis._**

* * *

**Prologue**

She wakes with the early morning light on her face. Not the full glare of the sun, but that soft light that precedes it. The kind that caresses as if in apology, that doesn’t want to interrupt.

Air from the open window shifts the curtains, fractioning the light. She blinks her eyes as the morning light sweeps across them.

She spends a moment in hushed silence, half-way between slumber and alertness. Everything is calm, quiet, and warm. No traffic outside. Only soft snores inside.

_Comfortable._

_Safe._

More aware now, she glances over her bare shoulder. Steve’s on his side facing her, asleep. The soft light shifts across his features; highlights the smooth lines, the tan skin, the parted lips. Mussed up hair and five o’clock shadow.

 _Wonderful_.

She rolls fully onto her back, careful. She doesn’t want to wake him - and not just because he’s not a morning person.

This moment… is precious. Sacred. Almost a well-hidden secret. And Tessa likes secrets. Mysteries. Most feel like puzzles worth figuring out, and she enjoys discovering the goal at the centre of the labyrinths.

Like this one. This _feeling_. Awareness, maybe. Where everything’s right and nothing’s wrong, and there are no black clouds on the horizon to muddy that up. She loves that feeling. She’d marry it if she could.

But she’s cognisant enough to realise it probably helps that she’s not fully awake yet. Once across the cusp of waking, the feeling will shift. Will reorient itself to something more realistic. Something that acknowledges all the facets of human existence.

Such as the fact that she shouldn’t really be here.

The smile fades.

The morning light brightens. Yellows and reds. More of a glare than a caress.

Steve’s brows furrow and his snores stop while he shifts his face away from the light. With a lumbering roll, he’s no longer facing her.

A clammy shiver runs down her naked spine.

Wide awake, she waits a few moments for the snores to resume. Then she rolls out of bed. Nimble. Careful. Pulling on underwear first. Picking up the rest to dress elsewhere.

Outside the house, she squints against the blaze of the sun, and huddles close against the open space all around. She seeks safety in the car, driving off before her mind catches up.

Something keeps glinting in the corner of her eye, though.

At a red traffic light, she glances down to the cup holder next to the gear stick. Feels abruptly overwhelmed. Disgusted. Nauseated.

She tries to ignore it, but she can’t. Daylight reveals all.

And the ring she’d left behind flickers gold in the sunlight.   


* * *

_Follow-up:[Memories](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26947216/chapters/68355979#workskin)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate!verse where Tessa married Brett before she joined Homicide, but him leaving during the Fairview case was only temporary. Their relationship problems have persisted...


	9. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #23. Follow-up to Bed.

**change the ending**

* * *

**1**

When he finds Tessa crying over the crime scene photos of Elisabeth Mallow, it changes him. Not because it's the first time he's seen her tears, nor because he might pity her or anything like that. Steve can't put his finger on the why, but he can _feel_ the change.

It's only later, after countless nights and moments spent chipping away at her armour, and after seeing exactly why her home wasn't her home, that the _why_ starts to solidify.

But down that path lies madness. He knows it. Both kinds of it. So he avoids it, denies it, compartmentalises it...at least until the chinks start to pile up. Until he sees her take one verbal hit after another and finally end up so far down the abyss that even the void's got a void.

So maybe that's why he does it in the end. Why he crosses the line. Breaks his unspoken oath. Makes her break her sworn one. Fucking up their lives even further.

“I should go,” Tessa says, eyes full of tears yet again. Her cheeks are puffy and red; skin flushed with both wine and emotions. “Brett'll be wondering where I am.”

She says the words, but all else is broadcasting her unwillingness to leave so loudly that Steve's head rings with the impact.

He rubs his face, grimacing, and feels the Moment edge closer. Feels the pitfall right within reach. The coiled tension. The excitement.

The plummet.

“If you want, you could stay.” Steve stares down at his now clasped hands. Within, his heart's beating up a storm. His blood's pounding. The air's still, but also wild.

Next to him on the couch, Tessa tense up.

He looks up at her, gaze serious, and almost lifts an eyebrow as if in a dare. Masking the storm within; the doubt; the insecurity.

“I—I should...” Tessa starts to splutter, but it peters out and she's still locked in place. Her eyes wide. Her mouth half open. Her skin still flushed, but he'd dare say from more than wine, depression and guilt this time. “I...”

Steve shifts slowly. Cautiously. As if approaching a wounded animal distrustful of human kindness, he lifts a hand — pained and uncertain — and then tucks a lock of blonde hair behind Tessa's ear.

She doesn't flinch.

There's a spark, though. A flare of nostrils and a gasp of air. A rush of blood into her cheeks. A sheen into her eyes. And in the end…a subtle shift _into_ his palm.

It changes everything.

The room expands and contracts like the thrum of a single heartbeat. And with the air electric and magnetic, Steve plummets. He leans forward, feels the Moment — headless and without gravity — and then there's heat upon his lips.

His gut drops. His lungs suck in air through his nose. And all over his body: tiny sparks. Multiplying. Storming. Raging. Made worse when someone opens their mouth; when a press becomes a movement that becomes a dance that becomes a deep battle of desperation and anchoring and hot, wet—

There's no time to wrap his head around the fact that Tessa's kissing him back. No time to consider the fact that they should stop. That they've got oaths, sworn and unspoken.

Like leaves in a storm, they're swept up and away. Mindlessly chasing a path they can't control. Enraptured by the process and the rush of air, but most of all by the freedom that rids them of all preconceptions and self-imposed limits. That takes them beyond conceived possibilities.

It's only later, after Tessa has slipped out in the wee hours of the morning, that there's time. And he spends that introspection staring at the ceiling, a horrible sense of _wrong_ twisting his gut with each memory recalled and replayed in his body and mind.

But it's not the type of wrong he _should_ feel.

And he pushes that fact far, far away…at least until it blows up in his face.

* * *

_Follow-up:[Jealousy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26947216/chapters/66788692)_


	10. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #3. Follow-up to Memories.

**change the ending**

* * *

**2**

Across the high-ceilinged hall, Tessa glitters in the dim light. She’s all decked out in a low-backed gala dress, with jewellery, hair and make-up to match it. Including Brett, who’s got one hand resting low on Tessa’s bare back. Who’s carrying the conversation with another couple, and who keeps shooting Tessa smiles that she returns.

It brings out the green-eyed monster in him.

He doesn’t have that right, though. Brett’s the husband. The name on the paper. The face behind the ring. And Steve’s…just the partner. The work mate. And somehow, sometimes, the occasional bedmate. 

He knew this going in. Whatever he’s getting, it’s fleeting. No strings attached, no promises made. Just two people and a bed. A moment outside their normal lives. Clean, simple, and completely messed-up. 

Steve’s no stranger to _messed-up_. Story of his life, really. But predictability has its own kind of comfort. If you already know how the story’s gonna go, there are no surprises down the road. No hurts. 

Which is why this jealousy thing throws him off balance.

Like a black cloud storming overhead, he stares at the hand on Tessa’s bare back. He wants it gone. More so when he catches the way Tessa’s smile stiffens when it drifts lower. Doubly so when it’s clear she’s not going to shake it off herself. That she’ll bear it. 

Just how she bears everything else. Undeservedly. 

Steve swigs the rest of his wine. Turns back to the bar for a moment to flag down the bartender and order a new drink — a stronger one — and then sits back in his seat with a mulish look. 

Across the room, Tessa’s gaze drifts to his. Their eyes connect. Wide versus narrowed. Bright versus dark. And in that fleeting moment, more is said than mere words can. That’s how it always seems to be. 

Then, because the green-eyed monster wills it, he glances down to Brett’s hand and up again. A clean, simple, _messed-up_ manoeuvre…

The result is instantaneous. Panic, shame, despair. They’re all there in those wide, blue eyes; in those stiff, oxygen-deprived muscles. But the green-eyed monster doesn’t care. For a moment, it’s been pacified. Satisfied. Hurt has been shifted elsewhere. 

Then Brett’s hand move up Tessa’s bare back, and she jerks her gaze back. Finds her husband’s instead. Offers him an apologetic smile to his unspoken question, and tries to engage in the conversation around her. 

Steve’s dark clouds worsen. 

Jaw tight, he swings around to face the bar. Gets his new drink, stares into it…and tries to ignore the fact that in the mirror behind the bar, he can see Brett look his way. 

_Messed-up._ Story of his life. Predictable. 

Steve downs his drink and prepares to leave. 

“Hi,” a soft, feminine voice speaks next to him. A tall brunette follows, leaning against the bar just inches from him. Gorgeous-looking. Dressed to kill. And she’s giving him a brilliant smile. 

Later, she’s giving him a whole lot more.

The monster doesn’t care about that, either. There’s only one face that pops up in his head. One body. 

And no matter how gorgeous this other woman is, she’ll never compare.

* * *

_Follow-up: Sated_


	11. Sated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #7. Follow-up to Jealousy.

**change the ending**

* * *

**3**

From the start, it's felt like they've tripped and stumbled into something. Fallen down the rabbit hole, maybe. This new world doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but they've navigated it so far anyway. From madness to sadness to badness. Caught up like dust in the wind. Not quite knowing where they're headed, but taking these moments where they can amongst the pieces of their otherwise messed-up lives.

Like now.

All is ablaze. All is right. Tessa basks in that feeling, _awareness_ maybe, with every spark, every brush, every press, and every jerk. She chases it, too. Seeks it out, delves in, and pulls as much as she pushes.

Steve responds easily. Effortlessly. _Deeply_. Showing her a world she's not sure she's known before, not even with Brett. Taking her down the rabbit hole, again and again. And she hates herself for loving it, but she does. It's addictive. _He's_ addictive.

And that's a fact that usually jars her reality so much that when things have cooled — when they're lying there sated, sweaty and weightless — Tessa knows she can't stay. That she's got somewhere to be. _Someone_ to be. And it isn't this person that's here, now, with _him_. Even if it's the most _her_ she's felt in years.

But tonight's different. Tonight there's nowhere else to go, nowhere else to _be_. They're stuck in a hotel room after a case out of town while fire crews battle a bush fire that's cut off the road back to Sydney and devoured the nearest cell tower. Blocking their escape. Giving them this moment.

 _These_ moments, Tessa corrects while lying on her back, legs still entangled with Steve's. Her whole body's limp, dazed; hot but cooling. She listens to her breathing. How it slows, quietens. How it brings the world back into focus...and yet not.

For once, the shame doesn't have her running. Maybe it's because she can't exactly go anywhere else, or maybe it's something else. This moment, maybe. The sense that the world's carved it out for them; giving them a respite, something out of normal time and place. A blanket pardon, in a way.

_What happens here, stays here._

Tessa examines that mantra, but there's no real energy behind it. So, for once, she just accepts. Stays out of her head. Remains in the rabbit hole.

_Wondrous._

“You all right?” Steve murmurs, his fingers brushing light and warm on her skin. She's wondered if he's like that with all his lovers: gentle, enticing, _caring_. It's a side to him she's never truly known in the three years they've been partners...and that she struggles to want _unknown_.

“Yeah,” Tessa murmurs back, rolling onto her side, into the nook of his arm, and draping one leg over his. She rests her palm on his heart; feels it thrum hot and persistent as always.

They say nothing else. Both just lie there in the dim hotel room with the red light of the bush fire looming in the distance. Breathing, thinking, _being_ …until eventually, they slip off to sleep still wrapped in each other's arms.

At peace.

Relaxed.

_Happy_ **.**

* * *

_Follow-up: Drink_


	12. Drink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #17. Follow-up to Sated.

**change the ending**

* * *

**4**

“Why stay?” 

It’s not the first time he’s asked that question from behind the rim of his bottle while their friends are busy elsewhere in the bar. Nor the first with that guarded look in his eyes that won’t meet hers. 

“You know why,” is her standard, subdued response. As is the way she fiddles with and plucks at her wedding ring with her thumb. 

Steve doesn’t reply. He usually doesn’t. Not beyond an inaudible sigh that cuts as deep as any blade. 

Tessa wonders if he knows that happens. If that’s why he won’t push further. 

She also wonders what’d happen if he _did_. But she has to push that imagination down. It’s not for her, after all. She'd made her bed years ago. She’s a married woman now. 

_Who sleeps with her partner._

Who loves her **husband**. 

_…who hates her job, her friends, her **life**. And always has. _

Flooded with memories, each more agonising than the previous, Tessa blinks back sudden tears. 

It takes Steve a whole five seconds to notice. “Tess…” 

That enunciation is — as always — enough to make her crumble. She covers her face in both hands and bites back her sobs, her throat aching with the pressure. Steve’s at her side at once, nudging her off the chair and providing cover for her retreat. 

Two minutes later, she’s outside the bar and secluded around the corner. Only then, only there, does she release control. Hot, burning tears splash down her face as her throat unclenches, and inhuman sobs burst out of her chest. She covers her face again and sinks down against the brick wall behind her. 

Then Steve’s there and she’s in his arms — and she’s safe, comfortable, _grounded_ — and the world disappears for a while as he hugs her tight. As he mutters something soothing into her hair. As he strokes her back like he’s always done. Like he’s always _going_ to do, it seems. 

And it’s _this_ , this _feeling_ , awareness or whatever, that pulls her to him. Time and again. Over and over. Like something wanton and desperate. Seeking out his warmth, his comfort, his _everything_ …only to leave before the sun rises, because when it comes down to it, even a shitty marriage is a marriage, and she doesn’t have the guts to leave. 

“I’m sorry,” she tells him every time before it starts. 

“Shh,” he always murmurs in return, lips soon brushing hers. Seeking them out, coaxing them on — electrifying, addictive — until she forgets what she’s just said. 

And tonight’s no different. Once her tears subside, she’s whispering the words into his ear, and he’s pressing kisses onto the nape of her neck, beneath her hair, and the heat flares in an instant. Steering them down the rabbit hole, into the blaze, once more.

But later, in his bedroom, he breaks their routine. 

“I wish you’d stay.” 

The words are soft, vulnerable, and entirely uncharacteristic. So is the look he’s giving her while she’s pulling on her clothes. 

Tessa's so stunned, she doesn’t know what to say. She stands there like an idiot instead: eyes glistening, throat burning, and heart aching. 

“He’s not the sun,” Steve continues, the sheets pooling around his naked frame where he rests against the headboard. “World doesn’t revolve around him. Neither do you.”

Tears fill and slip from her eyes. 

“I wish you could see that.” Steve’s little smile is pained. “But I know it’s hard. He’s your world. A shitty one, but a world all the same.”

Slowly, she sinks down to sit on the edge of Steve’s bed. He pulls his eyes back when she does, letting out that inaudible sigh once more — as if he knows something she doesn’t. 

“I’m—” she begins, but Steve shrugs and shakes his head. 

“I know.” He looks towards the window and the darkened street outside. He looks so alone that Tessa’s desperate to grab him, to hold on to him…

But she doesn’t know the end of that road, and it scares her more than she can put into words. Always has.

So, without another word, she leaves in the dead of night...and loathes herself all the way.

* * *

_Follow-up: Hunger.  
_


	13. Hunger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #8. Follow-up to Drink.

**change the ending**

* * *

**5**

If he's honest, he's known for a while that he's in too deep now. No more unconnected moments. The off-script events tie one script to the next. Blurs the lines so that he forgets which is which. Forgets when he's just the work mate, the friend, the bedmate.

Which is why it takes him a while when Brett storms into the A&E to realise he's where he shouldn't. Doing what he shouldn't. _Feeling_ what he shouldn't.

It's just pure luck that has him drop Tessa's hand and step back from her bed milliseconds before Brett jerks back the curtains around her rhesus bay. Not that it matters: upon recognition, Brett's eyes tighten in fury nevertheless. They always have.

"Hayden," Brett bits out. With an obvious survey, he takes in the situation. Tessa, unconscious on the bed. Steve, by her side, hands slipping into his trouser pockets. A red flush ripples through Brett's skin. "What _happened_?"

Steve's jaw clenches, torn between doing the right thing and the _what feels_ right thing, which is to tell the guy to fuck off.

In the end, he stares down at Tessa's pale features and does what _she_ would've wanted. "Dunno. She collapsed out of nowhere. Was just barely conscious on the way here." He nods towards the bustle of A&E staff activity outside the rhesus bay. "They're running some preliminary tests. Still waiting on the results."

Brett takes this with a tightness in his face, then makes an apparent show of taking up position on Tessa's other side, hand grabbing hers. There's a challenge in his eyes that sets Steve's teeth gnashing together. "All right, thanks for getting her here, I guess."

 _"I'll take it from here"_ is left unsaid.

Not that Steve needs to hear it. He's had to see it, live it, for years already. But never once in those years has he gained confidence in that unspoken vow. Nor does he do so now.

The ball's not in his court, though. Tessa's made her choice, and he's vowed to honour that — even if he hates it. Even if it kills him. Even if it's getting harder to remember when's what, and which's which.

Steve's hands fist in his pockets, and he takes his gaze off Brett. Gives Tessa another squizz — noting all discrepancies from the norm, feeling the remnants of that earlier panic and worry again — and then forces himself out of the rhesus bay lest he does something to regret. Something he can't forget.

But while his body leaves, his mind stays. Waits. Worries.

…until she calls him a few days later, oddly detached, and says they need to talk.

* * *

_ Follow-up: Kissing in the rain _


	14. Kissing in the rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #24. Follow-up to Hunger.

**change the ending**

* * *

**6**

It's almost funny — in a universe-is-laughing-at-you kind of way — that after all the pain, all the _years_ of pain, the choice is taken out of her hands. Just like that. From one moment to the next. Like a freight train that's barrelled in from her blind spot, pounding all else to dust.

And Tessa's sure it’s a sin to feel as relieved as she does, but amidst all the hurt and the _mess_ , she does. It’s like she can finally shake off the years’ worth of weight, stand tall and... _breathe_.

The air’s fresh. Sweet. Fulfilling. She inhales and exhales as much of it as she can. Tries to fill every pore in her lungs, every cell in her body; tries to shake off and forget all the hurts and the messiness that’s the pieces of her life right now. 

She tips her head back when it begins to rain. The water’s warm. It trickles down her face, through her hair, into her clothes. She doesn’t care. She needs it. Needs to feel clean. _Has_ to feel clean. New start, new life - that’s what she has to focus on now. Not just for her sake, but…

“Tess.” 

That enunciation rouses her like always. She opens her eyes, blinks away water, and sees Steve coming up towards her park bench with his brolly up. The pitter-patter of raindrops on canvas join the rest of the white noise around them. 

“You okay?” His brows are furrowed, his gaze prodding and observant. “You’re soaked.”

Tessa looks down at her folded hands, then inhales deeply. “I’m pregnant.” 

She can _feel_ him freeze up. Sees the stiffness in his legs where he stands in front of her. And she can only guess what’s running through his head right now. Could be rage, could be…

“Brett’s sterile,” she continues, the fact coming off her tongue surprisingly easy. There’s a hint of tears in her eyes, though. Like a final, obligatory lament for what, or who, they used to be. And she has to snort with laughter — laced with insanity, no doubt — before she looks up at Steve and shows him the two rings in her hands. “He never told me. So that’s that. The truth’s out.” 

She’s amazed how matter of fact she sounds. But perhaps she shouldn’t be. Her marriage’s been a sham for years. Ever since Brett left her during her very first case at Central Homicide: Fairview house. The serial killings. 

If it hadn’t been for Brady Mumm, perhaps he’d have stayed away. 

If it hadn’t been for Brady Mumm, maybe she’d have wanted him to. 

“…You okay?” 

Again with that question. Tessa’s really on the brink now. The tears well up hard and fast, and her chest aches with everything, _everything_ , that’s—

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” She chuckles in-between her tears and looks up at him. He’s stoic, grim, and yet staring at her with eyes that’s haunted her for over a year. “You’re having a kid with a woman who’s still legally married to someone else. I’d have thought—”

Steve drops to his knees in front of her. Bores his eyes into hers. Rests his hand upon her shoulder. Sounds _hoarse_ when he asks, “Are you _okay_?” 

Tessa’s face crumples. Hot, fat tears spill down her cheeks, and she tries to nod her head, but it comes out as shakes from side to side instead. And she falls forward into his arms — the brolly tumbles to the ground — and clutches him as tight as he’s clutching her. 

She cries for many reasons. A plethora of reasons, both good and bad. What matters in the end is that she comes out feeling _clean_ , at ease, _refreshed_ on the other side. Able to breathe, able to stand, able to dig deep into Steve’s arms and never want to let go. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, but it means something different now. Sorry that she’s foisted something new on him. Sorry that she’s saddled him with something he can’t possibly have asked for. She doesn’t know if he’ll understand that, but…

“Don’t be,” he murmurs in her ear and she wants to cry all over again. 

She bites back that urge, though. Pulls back, locks eyes with him, needs to _see_ and for _him_ to see as she whispers, “I’m not the sun, either.”

_You don’t have to stay._

Steve's arms tighten around her body, and his voice’s soft when he says, “I know.” 

_…but I want you to stay._

And then he kisses her. Holds her. _Loves_ her.

* * *

_Epilogue: Five senses.  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might be a follow-up to this one, but nothing's planned...
> 
> As part of my head!canon for this story - since it hasn't been confirmed in the novels of the TV series, I think - Steve's been married once. That's part of the reason he's somewhat "understanding", if I could put it like that. He's been through one messed-up marriage breakdown, and he's recognised it in Tessa's AU one ever since they met. Doesn't mean it's all a bed of roses, as I've tried to convey in the last four parts, but it's one of those things I'm imagining he's telling himself to justify an extramarital affair; that it's okay because that marriage's gonna implode some day. (And also because Tessa seems happy with Steve -- and in their work -- even if she tries to deny it.)


	15. Five senses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #22. Follow-up to Kissing in the rain.

**change the ending**

* * *

**Epilogue**

It’s come about in a roundabout way, but he can’t really regret it.

Not when he stares at that small pudgy face and listens to that bellyaching laugh. Not when he cuddles that little body close and feels the softness of her little toes. Not even when she stuffs her food happily into his mouth instead of hers, or when he catches a whiff of the 'packages' she gives him to dispose.

This is a life he'd never pictured, but it's a life Steve can't see himself without. Not now. Not ever. And that's a realisation that continues to amaze him.

"I love you," he says, and it still happens at least once a day. Whether to remind himself or to remind _them_ , he doesn't know. But Steve knows it's important either way; knows that the words - and the little gestures - _matter_.

After all, he's felt what happens otherwise. Has lived that life, and the one after - and that's a life he doesn't want. Not again. Not when he's tasted _this_. This _feeling_ , awareness maybe, where everything's got a chance to be right and nothing's inherently wrong.

It's not a fairytale ending, or a fairytale beginning for that matter. It's something that just _is_.

Difference is that now they've both got _perspective_. They've seen some of the worst and they know it's about the moments. Those fleeting moments that glue everything together, piece by piece, until the foundation's strong. Until the house stands even when it storms.

Like how she murmurs "I love you" in his ear at least once a day. _(She does so now in response to his.)_

Like how he holds her tight at night before they drift off to sleep. _(He'll do that tonight, but he hugs her a little now too.)_

Like how they swipe through snapshots of their daughter to counteract the darkness of their work. _(Here and now, they don't need it as they watch Maddie roam around on stubby feet in the living room.)_

"She's growing up so fast," Tessa says, and Steve's smile softens.

Yes, he knows. That's the name of the game, though. New life blossoms, old life wanes, and what's strong endures.

Even the things that've come about in the roundabout way.

Like _them_.

Like _this_.

* * *

**_FIN!_ **


	16. Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #5. 
> 
> Episode tag/missing scene to "Instrument of Death" (Season 2).

There’s something forbidden about this, he muses. Standing out of sight, hidden behind a door that’s been left ajar, with the back of his head resting against the cool wood. Listening; mesmerised.

He had no idea she could play the piano. Nor that she does it this well.

Clear, untroubled harmonies echo in the abandoned concert hall. Each tone floats soft and pure, but with hints of unspoken depths.

It’s not mechanical or perfunctory. Like her, it’s enigmatic. One note blends into another, filling the void with a mass of sound and feeling that echoes within him too. It brings a weak frown to his face.

She’s always been full of secrets. He learned that early on. No matter how he pries, she keeps a lid on anything personal. As if afraid the mere hint of it will lose her points in the eyes of her peers and boss. Only releasing info in bits and pieces, as if daring him to figure her out like one of those Chinese puzzles she loves so much.

He’s resisted that pull for a long time. Has feared to go down that rabbit hole; to see the truth behind the curtain.

And it’s led him here. A spy. An outsider looking in.

He stares at her through the crack in the door. Feels the music. Feels...what’s hidden underneath. The things that aren’t or can’t be spoken. Mysterious. Ethereal.

 _Distant_.

Steve withdraws his gaze. Rests his head back upon the wall. Stares into the ceiling, listening. Thinking.

Then…he leaves for the bar.

* * *


End file.
